Chapter Fifty-Three: Confronting Feng Qingyang

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At night, Yang Wenhao awoke from his cultivation. The world outside was already shrouded in darkness, and this was precisely the time he found most suitable for his plans. To be on the safe side, Yang Wenhao changed into a set of black night-clothes, covering his face completely. He strapped his sword to his waist, slipped out of his room, and ran swiftly toward the cliff of reflection behind Mount Hua.

Above, the moon hung high in the sky, and though the faint white glow on the ground could not compare to daylight, it was still enough to make out the road ahead so long as nothing obstructed his view.

Arriving at the cliff of reflection, Yang Wenhao crept quietly to the side of the thatched hut, peered in through the window, and saw that Linghu Chong was fast asleep inside. Only then did Yang Wenhao feel at ease.

He turned and made his way to the cave he had entered during the day. Since it was night, the cave was pitch-black. Yang Wenhao reached into his robes and took out something he had prepared in advance—a flashlight. In a place like this, a flashlight was indispensable.

Guided by his memory from earlier, Yang Wenhao found the spot he was looking for.

"This is the place!"

During the day, he had already determined that the stone wall here was hollow behind. All that remained was to break through the wall using the appropriate means.

He reached out and felt the wall, discovering that most of the crevices were filled with mortar.

"That makes things easier."

Drawing the sword from his waist, Yang Wenhao thrust its tip into a seam filled with mortar. There was no way mere mortar could withstand his sword; unsurprisingly, it pierced straight to the bottom.

He repeated this several times, then reached out and pulled out a stone with his bare hand.

Once the stone was removed, a hidden chamber was revealed behind it. Now that a breach was made, it took only a little more force to break through.

Yang Wenhao took the most direct approach: he delivered a powerful kick, collapsing half the wall in one blow.

A half-man-high entrance appeared before him. Without hesitation, Yang Wenhao crawled through.

Inside the secret chamber behind the stone wall, he illuminated the path ahead with his flashlight.

Crunch...

Suddenly, Yang Wenhao felt the ground give way beneath his foot. Looking down, he realized he had stepped on a human bone, which, perhaps due to long weathering, crumbled to dust beneath his weight.

He paid it no mind, knowing full well that there might be more remains ahead.

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As he proceeded, the path illuminated by his flashlight came to an end. Yang Wenhao then shone the beam along the surrounding walls.

A few large characters stood out boldly where the light fell.

"The Five Mountains Sword Alliance—shameless and vile, failed in fair combat and resorted to ambush and treachery."

Sixteen characters in total. Upon seeing them, Yang Wenhao smiled faintly. There was no need to guess; these words had been carved by someone from the Sun and Moon Sect.

Though the Five Mountains Sword Alliance claimed the mantle of orthodoxy, such factions often employed any means necessary in the name of righteousness. Thus, Yang Wenhao had never harbored any fondness for so-called righteous sects.

In his eyes, he embodied both good and evil. He could be a righteous man, or he could be a heretic. What he chose to do was nobody else’s concern.

"Ding... Detection: a large number of fragmented sword techniques found nearby. Spend one hundred points to fuse them? Fusion will enhance sword mastery."

"Fuse them," Yang Wenhao replied without hesitation. This was what he had come for; to leave without fusing would be pointless.

"One hundred points deducted. Sword mastery proficiency increased."

Yang Wenhao was a bit surprised that he didn’t hear the notification of a level-up. Upon checking his proficiency carefully, he found that although his swordsmanship was now at consummate mastery, there remained a considerable distance before he could reach the next stage—transcendence.

Even so, he could sense a distinct improvement in his understanding of swordsmanship.

"Given the host's strong desire to advance his swordsmanship, he may spend one thousand points to instantly upgrade to transcendence. Proceed?"

"Get lost!" Yang Wenhao scoffed. He had only earned so many points in total, and to spend them all to upgrade a single skill was hardly worthwhile.

Besides, at his current level, even if he were to face the Invincible East, he would remain undefeated, maybe even seize an opportunity to triumph.

What, then, was the point of further improvement?

Yang Wenhao left the secret chamber. As he debated whether or not to seal the entrance, a sudden chill swept up behind him.

Bang...

He blocked the attack with one hand, gripping the flashlight in the other, and eyed the figure before him warily. The beam of the flashlight caught the man’s face, allowing Yang Wenhao to see him clearly.

"The white-haired elder? You must be Feng Qingyang."

Seeing Yang Wenhao call him by name at once, a hint of surprise flickered in Feng Qingyang’s eyes. "You’re that boy from Mount Hua I saw earlier today?"

"Haha," Yang Wenhao chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement.

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"And what do you find so amusing?" Feng Qingyang asked coldly, eyeing Yang Wenhao.

"Forgive me, but I am not the disciple of Mount Hua you take me for," Yang Wenhao replied.

"If not, then why sneak in here at night?" Feng Qingyang demanded. "Explain yourself, or don’t blame me for being harsh."

Since the other man was not a disciple of Mount Hua, Feng Qingyang felt no need for restraint.

Though Yang Wenhao couldn’t guess what Feng Qingyang was thinking, he knew this man before him was a disciple of the Mount Hua Sword Sect, and that his entrance into the cave had not gone unnoticed.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Then I’ll keep at you until you beg for mercy," Feng Qingyang retorted. He was not one to be trifled with; his palms shifted into a stance as he struck at Yang Wenhao.

"Don’t kid yourself—you’re not even skilled in palm techniques. Even if you were, it wouldn’t matter."

Yang Wenhao met the attack with his own palm technique.

After a single exchange, Feng Qingyang was forced back several steps, while Yang Wenhao remained unmoved.

Yang Wenhao was quite pleased with this result. After all, he was a fifth-level Qi cultivator, on par with an innate martial artist.

Feng Qingyang was indeed an innate master, but since palm techniques were not his forte, Yang Wenhao’s ability to repel him with a single move was already quite impressive.

Seeing Yang Wenhao stand firm, Feng Qingyang realized it was futile to persist with his own weakness.

Bang...

With a stamp of his foot, Feng Qingyang sent a tremor through the cave. Owing to Linghu Chong’s presence, there were many dried branches inside. With a flick, a withered stick leapt into Feng Qingyang’s hand.

Swordsmanship—this was Feng Qingyang’s pride, his greatest strength. When it came to the art of the sword, there was perhaps none in the world to rival him.

But Yang Wenhao was an exception. He did not belong to this world, yet his swordsmanship was no less than Feng Qingyang’s.

"If you wish to use the sword, I shall oblige you."

Yang Wenhao drew the long sword from his waist.

"Heh..."

Feng Qingyang’s aura surged, and with renewed vigor, he launched himself at Yang Wenhao.

(End of this chapter)